


Song That Never Ends

by BulletproofFurniture



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hank knows a meme, Music, this is dumb and self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 17:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15148097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletproofFurniture/pseuds/BulletproofFurniture
Summary: Connor has some dumb preconceived notions about Hank’s taste in music.





	Song That Never Ends

**Author's Note:**

> This is COMPLETELY self-indulgent. Hank is older than I am at this point in time, so I don’t even know if he’d like this music. Hell, Hank is a fictional character, who KNOWS if he actually likes more than metal.
> 
> WOULD HANK KNOW MEMES,,,, WOULD HE BE A NORMIE,,,, I mean, he DID become a cop, after all...

Connor had come to an erroneous conclusion.

Perhaps ‘erroneous’ was too strong. It was not an _incorrect_ conclusion, just...misinformed. Hank plays heavy metal on the way to crime scenes, death metal when he is filling out paperwork, and Icelandic metal on the way to the bar after a long day of work.

Hank _insists_ there is a difference between the three. Objectively, Connor knows this is true. Subjectively (which is new - Connor had not had an opinion on such small things, before deviating), Connor thinks they all sound very similar. Connor had extrapolated from this data that Hank really only cared for music of the metal variety.

But after everything cools down a little after Markus’ march, and the Supreme Court ruling and subsequent bills and amendments protecting android rights, Connor realizes his data was _woefully_ incomplete.

Hank lets Connor stay with him, since he no longer has anywhere to go. CyberLife is closed as they shuffle management, and even if it wasn’t, Connor would not feel comfortable going back. He lets Connor rest on his couch, and does not object when Connor cooks. They drive to work together, and they drive home together.

Connor does not need as much rest as the average human, and wakes far earlier than the sun. Eventually, he feels comfortable enough to explore Hank’s home. “Come on in, make yourself at home,” he’d said that first night. “You can stay as long as you want, so long as you don’t fuck up any of my stuff.”

Organizing closets is hardly “fucking up” Hank’s belongings, so he does so with an odd mixture of excitement and curiosity. Most of what he finds is not very interesting—old books that have not been unearthed possibly since Hank moved in, boxes of coats a size or two too small, a laundry hamper filled with junk like broken leashes and old mail. But there _is_ a folder of old CDs.

There is no CD player, so Connor notes the titles and resolves to look them up later. Panic! At The Disco, Josh Turner, and Missy Elliot are only a few, with a few silver CDs with words scrawled in a much younger Hank’s hand: Classical Piano, Jazz, Blues. There is probably a pawn shop _somewhere_ that has a CD player, Connor thinks. He can’t look up the music on the silver ones, if he doesn’t know the song title and artist.

“Hank?” he asks in the morning, as he packs Hank’s lunch before work. He gets only a grunt in return, which is fine; Hank usually isn’t awake before his second cup of coffee. “Can we stop by a second hand store today? Or perhaps a pawn shop?”

“Why the fuck would you want to do that?” Hank grumbles, poking tiredly at his eggs. Connor tries not to find his sleepy expression too endearing.

“I found a folder of CDs while I was organizing last night—”

“Told you y’don’t have to do that.”

“—and there were some without titles that I would like to listen to.”

Hank is quiet for a moment. “You wanna listen to my old crap stash of music? You know that’s pretty old stuff, right?”

“Well, of course. It _is_ all on Compact Discs, which were rendered pretty much obsolete by the early twenty-tens,” Connor reminds him. “From the titles I _was_ able to look up, I’ve determined these albums were produced in the mid to late oughts.”

“Alright, then,” Hank says with a shrug. “We can stop by somewhere after work.” He stands to take his dishes to the sink. “Couldn’t hurt to get you more cultured.”

 

* * *

 

There is a _lot_ of music.

After listening to Hank’s sizeable CD collection, Connor listens to the entirety of his MP3 over the course of a week. And after that, he starts looking up different bands based on what he’d liked listening to from Hank’s collection. He starts playing music while he cleans and while he works.

“You have a varied taste in music,” Connor remarks one morning as they walk into the police station.

“I guess you could say that,” Hank shrugs. “I’m just old. There’s a lot of stuff to listen to over the course of time.”

“Why do you listen to so much metal, if there is.” Connor stops. He would hate to offend the Lieutenant’s taste in music.

“If there’s what?” Hank prods, sitting heavily in his seat. Connor stands awkwardly next to Hank’s desk.

“If there is... _easier_ music to listen to,” he says delicately. Hank barks a laugh.

“Metal is plenty easy to listen to,” he says easily.

“It’s just _screaming_ ,” Connor insists.

“Exactly.” Hank grins. “What’s not to understand about that? Besides, the guitars are pretty cool.” Connor gives up and walks around to his own desk, settling into his seat to interface with his desktop. “Well, what’s something you’ve decided _you_ like?” Hank asks. An olive branch.

“The band Keane is very enjoyable,” Connor says.

“They’re pretty bland, though,” Hank says with a grimace. “They’ve got some good songs, but the rest of their discography falls flat. Hey, if you like them, you should try Muse. They’re basically rock ‘n roll Keane.”

“I have listened to them,” Connor replies delicately. He would grimace if he could, but he would hate to be rude. “I do not like them very much. It’s hard to understand what they are saying.”

“Wh- You don’t like them ‘cause you can’t understand them, but you like _Keane_?!”

It is not the only time they have argued about music, and Connor supposes they will just have to agree to disagree. At least it isn’t as bad as their argument about Breaking Benjamin.

(Connor is of the opinion that all of their songs sound the same. Except for Diary of Jane and Failure, which sound the same as each other. Hank gets very worked up. A chair gets thrown. It is messy.)

Later in the afternoon, Detective Gavin trips and drops his coffee on the floor. As he is getting up, cursing to himself, Hank deadpans, “This is so sad. Connor, play Despacito.”

Connor knows this song, listened to it just the other day, but he does not know why the Lieutenant is asking for it to be played. But Connor interfaces with his desktop and has it playing within a matter of seconds.

Gavin looks between the two of them incredulously. “You are so fucking _old_ ,” he says to Hank in disgust, and then storms off. Hank just snorts, and Connor turns off the music. Hank grins at him, and Connor figures he is forgiven for not liking Muse.

“That song became kind of a joke in the late twenty tens,” Hank informs him. “Back when household AIs were just starting up, Alexa and Google and shit. I don’t know a whole lot about it, but Gavin was probably a teen around that time. Kids in those days _hated_ when old people used old memes.”

Connor is confused. “But it is a decent song,” he says in confusion. Hank just shrugs.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, I wrote this in like 30 mins at midnight. I got inspired by the “this is so sad Alexa play despacito” meme. There was gonna be maybe some Hank Plays Bass In An Old Man Jazz Band, and maybe some Hankcon, but I couldn’t figure out how to squeeze it all in. Maybe there will be a part two later on who knows. Probably not.
> 
> Also, forgive me for imposing my own musical opinions on this work. It’s late and I honestly don’t care anymore lmao.


End file.
